


Taming the Hound

by thehoundsraven



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 21st Century, Acting, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Awkward Dates, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon - TV, Dancing, Drunken Kissing, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Magic, POV Sandor Clegane, Party, Romance, Sandor Clegane Lives, Sex, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Singing, Smut, Transformation, hbo, stunts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehoundsraven/pseuds/thehoundsraven
Summary: After an unsatisfying viewing of Season 8 Episode 4, a heartbroken Rowan makes a fateful wish that will change her and her pack of rescue pups lives forever. Her houseful of dogs are expecting another Hound.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second story I am working on ( I have three stories working in my head simultaneously, so I'm trying to get them out as quickly as possible. There has been some traction, but I'm in the process of doing the final editing with some of the next chapters. Thanks for stopping by!
> 
> ** I do not own GRRM characters or the concept/world of GoT**

Tonight was the big night. The battle with the dead had ended with some costly deaths; Jorah Mormont, Theon Greyjoy, Lyanna Mormont and Beric Dondarrion- all fought bravely and died heroically. Sad at these characters passing, Rowan couldn’t help but feel guilty as her concern was for the war veteran Hound. Season 8 of GoT had the world on edge, how was the final season gonna end…? Rowan was uneasy, episode four seemed to have some foreshadowing, odd reunions that both answered series long questions but also brought to light new ones. The Hound seemed more driven than before to carry out some sort of plans, and this made Rowan nervous. 

9-o-clock on the dot, opening music plays. 

* * * * *

Dragon fire rained down on Kingslanding as the Mad Queen let loose her rage. In the midst of all the chaos and destruction of the Red Keep, Sandor finally meets Gregor on the grand staircase. The prophesied Cleganebowl was now a reality. Rowan was on the edge of her seat, _oh god please, no._

“Hello big brother”

Rowan was frantic watching the much-anticipated fight. Sandor had put up a good fight, he even delivered blows that would kill any other man, but not the undying Mountain. _This isn’t fair! Why won’t he die already!!_

The Mountain was brutal, throwing Sandor around like a rag doll. Rowan cringed with every blow. The Mountain picked up Sandor and with the ease of breathing, pressed his thumbs into Sandor's eye sockets. 

“NOOOOO!!!” Rowan’s heart sank to her stomach. There was absolutely no coming back from this. Even if he killed his brother Sandor would will his own death, he could never be a cripple. Sandor’s cries of pain sent chills down Rowan’s spine. Fated tears began to roll down her cheeks. This is it. 

Sandor managed to pull out his dagger and stab his brother in the eye which finally freed him from the brutal grasp. However, Gregor pulled the blade from his eye as if unphased. Completely resolved in what needed to be done, Sandor gave a final cry before charging forward into his brother and sending them both tumbling out of the Red Keep into the burning rubble below. 

Rowan just stared at the screen mortified. Her heart might as well have stopped, her body felt cold, her spirit broken. _He's gone, for good… he burned._

This was too much, Rowan was completely oblivious to the rest of the episode her mind all consumed with the death of her beloved Hound. She had nearly drained the bottle of wine she only meant to sip one glass from, but her sorrow filled multiple glasses. Her tears flowed freely, anguish sat heavy on her heart.

“Fuck! It can’t end like this, it can’t” she sobbed. Her dogs sat around the couch, all three eager to comfort their heartbroken master. Juliet, the regal greyhound, finally climbed up and rested her head on Rowan’s lap. Titan and Hades sat on either side of her legs protectively. Rowan gave a weak smile petting all three appreciatively. “The Hound must live, this isn’t how it’s supposed to end,” she sniffled trying to regain some composure. Her head was pounding and exhaustion hit her like an anvil. Her eyes surrendered to gravity.

“I wish the Hound were here..” she whispered her final thought before drifting off to sleep.


	2. A Stray Lost in a Thunderstorm

The winds picked up as the darkness of night rolled into late hours. A thunderstorm was about to break out. The rumble of thunder in the distance put her dogs on edge as they huddled close together in their kennel. 

A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, mere seconds later the crack of thunder vibrated throughout the house. The pups yelped in fear. Rowan bolted upright on the couch startled. She had forgotten she fell asleep in a wine stupor just feet away from her bed, but she didn’t care. She had fallen asleep on this couch many a night. She rushed to their kennel where they were balled up shaking trying to console them. 

“Shhh, it’s alright, it’s ok, only a passing storm,” she cooed softly. As she took turns stroking their fur, a heavy thud echoed from downstairs. Rowan stilled listening for sounds other than the storm that brewed outside. Juliet whimpered. “Shh,” her nerves were on edge. She heard footsteps below. _Dammit_. She looked around her room for a weapon to arm herself when her eyes fell of Glamdring, the elvish blade Gandalf found whilst on his adventure with the dwarves and Bilbo enroute to Erebor. It was a long beautiful blade, purely for decoration but if you saw it and didn’t know any better it looked like a warrior's sword. She reached up to the rack and retrieved Glamdring holding the sword protectively in front of her. As she stepped out of her room, the pups moved to follow.

“Stay,” she instructed holding a hand up to keep them at bay. She reached out feeling the wall for the light switch, her finger found it and flicked it up and down, but the hall remained in total darkness. _No power.. great_.

Rowan cautiously made her way down the stairs. She was thankful the steps didn’t creak under her weight, the only light she had to guide her was the occasional flash of lightning in the distance. 

Finally on the main floor, she looked around cautiously before rounding the banister to inspect the rooms. _Where are you?_ She thought to herself, her nerves were dancing, making her skin crawl in anticipation. She made her way through the kitchen and seeing it clear, she headed to the den. The moment she stepped into the corridor the temperature rose to a comfortable warmth. Almost like summer rain rather than the cool spring showers. And something smelled different, contrary to the usual essential oils of lavender and eucalyptus that she cycled through her home, she smelled something sour. _Is than..wine?_ For the fraction of a second she had contemplated naming the scent, she ever so slightly lowered her blade. Like a freight train he slammed his body into hers. She felt her body being swallowed by the darkness as she and the intruder fell to the floor. The impact of the initial hit took the air out of her lungs, but this massive body that now lay on top of her kept any new air from coming in. Wheezing she hit and pushed on the large mass to get off. Only when she landed a fist on the dip of his neck that sloped into his shoulder did he pull away from her. He scowled in pain clutching the spot she hit. Coughing, Rowan rolled over on her belly and desperately reached around in search of the sword she had dropped. Her fingertips traced the pommel, but before she had a good grip, she felt a sudden rush as she was being pulled away, he had her by the ankle. She rolled and squirmed like a fish on a line, but his grip was firm as he flipped her onto her back.

Taking her free leg she wrapped it around his neck, putting him in a headlock with her knee. He released her ankle and moved his arms to his neck to pry her leg open. She quickly brought the other leg up, anchoring at the ankles. She struggled to clench her legs together as he pulled. _Fuck this usually works_ , she started to panic. He staggered to his feet painfully pulling at her legs while trying to balance. Fearing he would drop to the floor, she crunched up and put her fingers to his eyes. The moment he felt her hands on his face he growled and did exactly what she feared. Halfway orienting himself he aimed to fall forward on her. In a panic, Rowan loosened her grip preparing to try and catch herself on the way down. The man felt her grip loosened, he grabbed her by the hips and threw her forward. 

She flew into the darkness. Fortunately, her butt grazed the top of a couch as the rest of her body rolled over the edge then dropping her onto the floor with a thud. She groaned. Before she could get up he was on her again, only this time he grabbed her by the scruff of her nightshirt jerking her up to her feet. He forced her into the wall with a dagger at her throat. 

“Seven hells girl, you’re more trouble than that little wolf bitch,” his grip on her shirt pulled her up as she was barely on her toes. She swallowed the lump in her throat. During the scuffle she wasn’t that concerned about her modesty, seeing as there were more important things at hand, _like survival._ But now that he had her trapped, she became self-conscious. _The least I could’ve done was grab a sports bra_ she chastised herself _._ His grip on her shirt all but exposed her breasts and long exposed her boy short underwear. She started to shift uneasily when she thought about his words. _Wolf bitch?_

“Look at me!” he demanded. What little light there was found his eyes and they gleamed a steel color. They were filled with fury. “Who are you?” He rasped shaking her. She closed her eyes struggling to formulate her thoughts. 

She opened her eyes just as the night sky lit up in the distance with a flash of lightning. The light was strong enough to cast the shadows away from his face for but a moment. But that moment was all Rowan needed. The light revealed terrible burns on the left side of the man’s face, streaks of dark wet hair plastered against his scalp, and piercing silver eyes searing into her angry. 

“Sandor Clegane…” her voice just above a whisper.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I am currently preparing for my upcoming season of competition. Oddly enough, once that starts, I should have more time on my hands to write **fingers crossed**  
> Thank you guys for following this story. I couldn't wait to get back to writing!

Suddenly the lights flickered on. They both blinked trying to let their eyes adjust. Then she could see him, she saw the man from the books. The gaunt face with high cheekbones, the heavy brow, the burn scars that covered half his scalp down to his throat. Even just him holding her up with one arm like a small child, he was strong and large. His features were twisted in a snarl, he was angry and confused, his instincts on high alert.

  
“How do you know my name? Who are you?” he demanded leaning into her, his breath heavy with wine.

  
The scent of sour wine made Rowan’s eyes water, “first can you let me go?” Sandor made no move to release his hold, his grip of her shirt firm. She started to squirm when she heard the seams of her shirt strain under the tension of his grasp. “You are exposing me,” she added looking down at herself. Sandor followed her gaze and saw the swell of her breast peeking from beneath her oversized nightshirt. His eyes did not leave the untimely sight, there was a glint in his eye.

  
Rowan twisted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. She tried to stay calm, she knew he could easily overpower her if he wanted to, she couldn’t stop him. Fortunately, she knew his character pretty well, so she was able to breathe easy. However, that still didn’t lessen her embarrassment for being in this vulnerable position.

  
Begrudgingly, he lowered her to the floor and let go of the now distorted fabric. Rowan attempted to smooth out the stretched material, but it was in vain. It’s ruined.

  
“You’re so rude!” she pushed against him piqued, but he stood unphased by her push. “You break into my house, attack me, rough me and my shirt up and now are making demands,” Rowan brooded.

  
Sandor swiped her hands away and pushed her against the wall, “I don’t have time for this girl,” he snarled pointing the blade up to her neck menacingly.

  
“Typical,” she said rolling her eyes and moving to step around him, but he blocked her path. She looked up at him defiantly, craning her neck to do so, but she held his piercing cold gaze.

  
He waited for her to shrink away from him, just as any girl whoever caught his eye accidentally, had done, but she didn’t waver. She looked at him squarely. This nearly made him chuckle at her pointless act of defiance save for the fact he had a thousand questions that needed answering. He lowered his blade. “Who are you?” he finally asked, his voice calm and even.

  
Before Rowan answered a cutting response she stopped herself. _There’s no point in being hostile-not now._ _He’s just as confused and uneasy as I am._ Rowan shook her head. _This is ridiculous!_ Rowan’s head was spinning, she blinked looking around trying to make sense of it all. _I must have drunk too much wine_. She thought disappointed. _This is one crazy dream_. Rowan smiled to herself, seeing the seriousness on his face deepened.

  
“My name is Rowan, this is my house which you somehow stumbled upon. I honestly don’t have any answers as to how this happened.” She shrugged her shoulders, “To be frank, I think this is a silly dream and I will wake up with a horrible hangover from too much wine.”

  
Sandor’s eyes scrunched skeptical, “Wine?”

  
Rowan rolled her eyes, “After all that, all you heard was wine?” _Why was he only hearing insignificant details?_ Rowan moved to walk around him again, but he threw his arm in front of her barring her path.

  
“Why were you drinking so deeply?” his eyes searching for a hidden truth. Her throat bobbed. She could feel the heat start to creep up her neck, but she quickly suppressed it along with the truth.

  
Rowan cleared her throat, “I do not have to answer to your interrogations, ser-” before she could finish her sentence he grabbed her arm and twisted her to face him.  
“I am no ser!” he snarled cutting her off, his patience was wearing thin.

  
Rowan looked at him, her curiosity visible in her eyes as she searched his. In any other situation, this form of aggression should've made her afraid if not extremely uncomfortable. But she wasn’t. She merely looked at him with a sense of wonder. _So this is the infamous Hound that made all of Westeros cower at the mention of his name._ His steel-grey eyes bore into her in a way she had never experienced before. The intensity of his stare stirred something within her, what she could not say. There were so many emotions flooding her mind, it was hard to fully grasp them all. Just a few hours ago she mourned the death of the Hound so vehemently, an onlooker would have thought a close relative had tragically passed. But now she was experiencing one of his sharp corrections- the same which Sansa Stark had received plenty of times. It was hard to not relish such a moment, so instead, she smiled to herself, suppressing the urge to tease him further. _Oh, Sansa Stark, how much you took for granted._

  
Refocusing to the matter at hand. He was still holding onto her with his face only inches away. She saw the famed deep craters and marred flesh that was his burned side. It was every bit as horrid as she imagined, the visage standing before her.

  
When Sandor realized she was examining his scars, he immediately released her arm, almost pushing her away. A look of disgust passed through his eyes as he turned to hide the marred flesh that was half his face. Rowan frowned at his harsh reaction. _I wish he wasn’t so cruel to himself, he’s not a monster._

  
Eager to move on from the awkward pause, Rowan concluded that a good night's rest would help clear the air, but mainly help her sober up. “Well there’s nothing to be done tonight,” Rowan replied rather curtly, she was in no mood to argue semantics and proper titles. “Best to get some sleep,” Rowan made her way around him heading back to cut through the kitchen when she felt a dull ache in her tailbone, she stopped. She turned giving him a miffed look as she rubbed her tailbone, “you didn’t have to throw me across the room.” She noticed his eyes were roaming her backside, before meeting hers.

  
He was quiet for a moment. “Should’ve submitted then.” He rasped, his eyes were dark. Rowan’s mouth formed for a witty remark, but instead, a smile formed at her lips accepting his honest reply.

  
“Touché, non-ser,”

  
Sandor studied her. She was small, tiny compared to him. Her skin was brown like the people of Dorne but with a hint of red. And her eyes, her eyes were a curious shape he had never seen before. They were...almondlike. Her hair was raven black and shaved down the sides, _odd for a woman, but God’s know what’s normal in this land._ She was beautiful, a type of beautiful he never knew existed, foreign. He thought back to the peek he had of her exposed breasts. And now the view of her arse, _she is well endowed_ he noted to himself seeing her nightshirt reveal the shape of her hips and backside.

  
Rowan started to turn when she caught sight of the refrigerator, “Oh are you hungry?”

  
In all the commotion, Sandor hadn’t taken into consideration his empty stomach, but at the mention of food, an audible rumble filled the corridor.

  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rowan said heading into the kitchen. Sandor followed her in tow, curious to see what she would bring forth.

  
Rowan made her way around the island in the center of the kitchen before her top half disappeared as she began rummaging in the refrigerator for leftovers. Sandor stood at the other side of the kitchen waiting to see what she would pull out to eat when out of the corner of his eye he saw a tall hound making her way towards him. He turned to see a familiar breed.

  
Dropping to one knee to make himself less threatening, he held out his hand for the curious hound to sniff. “Hello girl,” his voice softened. She sniffed his knuckles intently, her eyes darting from his hand to his face several times as she was alert. Once she was satisfied with the greeting, she licked his hand and wrist approvingly.

He chuckled at her resolve. Rowan turned to look at what had his attention and found him getting acquainted with her old hound.

  
“Aww,” Rowan watched as Juliet immediately took a liking to Sandor; her tail wagging fiercely.

  
Sandor looked up. “What?”

  
“That’s Juliet, she’s the matriarch of the House. She’s usually pretty reserved with new people, but she seems to like you a lot.” There was a happy lilt in her voice.

  
Sandor turned his attention back to the hound before him, “ Juliet, yours is the symbol of my house.”

  
At that comment, Rowan was taken aback. _Of course! A hound would obviously get along with the Hound._

  
“She is quite muscular,” he observed, looking at her shoulder and back muscles which were deeply defined.

  
“I got her at a rescue for retired racing greyhounds,” Rowan stated proudly.

  
Sandor frowned. He hated the exploitation of animals for selfish monetary gains of man. _Such a sweet girl never deserved such a life. I imagine life now is much better, eh?_ He thought petting the girl’s neck.

  
Out of the shadows, Titan and Hades emerged and flanked Juliet’s hip. Both gave a little gruff as their ears perked forward and their hackles stood at attention.

  
“Be nice boys,” Rowan warned making her way from behind the island to help with introductions.

  
Sandor held out his hand for the two new dogs to sniff him. “They have a fierce look about them.

  
Rowan knelt down across from Sandor holding a hand out for the boys to come to her. They walked over and nuzzled her. They looked at Sandor eager to investigate, but hesitated before looking to their master for assurance. “Go on, say hi,”. Sandor sat still allowing them to size him up. Titan and Hades circled him sniffing his hand, neck, and clothes. Titan, feeling brave, even licked his elbow before sitting beside Sandor satisfied by his inspection giving him leave to pet him. Taking his brothers cue, Hades sat on the other side of Sandor as if to guard him.

  
Sandor barked a laugh. “Well well, little soldiers aren’t you?” he stroked the back of Titan, marveling at his beautiful glistening black coat.

  
“That’s dobes for ya,”

  
Sandor’s eyes didn’t leave the pup, “dobes?”

  
“Dobermans are guard dogs. Loyal like a hound, but holding a fierce reputation to be protective of their territory.” Rowan clarified.

  
Sandor’s brows furrowed, “What need have you for guard dogs?”

  
“I don’t need guard dogs,” she clarified. “I adopted them from a shelter. Someone had a litter of pups they couldn’t care for anymore.” She eyed her twins affectionately. She liked the view in front of her. Her pups content and accepting of their new guest. All tail and stubs wagging happily.

  
Sandor nodded with approval, “You have a nice little pack here Lady Rowan." Hades' tongue hung from his mouth full of content.

Rowan smiled," I'm glad my boys, like you." Rowan stood and made her way to the island. Sandor followed and saw she had an assortment of foods out for his choosing. “So I have burgers, pizza, some bites of sushi, pasta and...whatever this is…” she picked up the container and looked at the contents curiously. Shrugging, “ you can have whatever you'd like.”

  
Sandor looked at the food before him. He was not a picky eater, but the food before him looked so strange. The burger looked most familiar. He moved to grab the plate of beef.

  
“I can heat it up first, I was just asking what you would like.”

  
“Don’t make a fuss over me girl, this’ll do,”

  
“It’ll taste better,” she warned.

  
Before he could object again, she grabbed the plate and made her way to the microwave. His stomach was growling fiercely, with food so near yet formality keeping his belly empty. He eyed the triangles hungrily, and before she turned around he snatched a piece and began devouring it.

  
Rowan turned and saw him scarfing down a slice. She laughed, “pizza is probably one of the few foods you can eat either warm or cold.” She shook her head. “You must be famished, sorry to keep you waiting,”

  
Sandor chewed his food thoughtfully. His mouth was full, “what do you call this?”

  
Rowan smiled, “it’s pizza. It’s like a flatbread with all sorts of toppings of our choosing. What you just ate was pepperoni and sausage,”

  
Sandor nodded with approval, “I like it,” he grabbed another slice.

  
“What would you like to drink? I’ve got water-”

  
“Fuck water,” his words lost with his full mouth. “Bring me wine,”

  
Rowan turned and went you her butler’s pantry smiling to herself. As you wish.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while. Been preparing for my sliding season.  
> I know it's a slow start, but we're getting traction and making moves in the next chapter. Hang on!!

She led him to the guest room which had a queen-sized bed. She stood in the doorway looking at the bed with disapproval. Sandor passed her entering and looking around awestruck by the size. He almost looked suspicious like she was messing with his head and in a matter of moments was going to pull him away and show him to a stable somewhere.

“I don’t think the bed is big enough,” she noted biting the inside of her lip.

He looked at her confused, “biggest bed I’ve ever been offered.”

Her brows furrowed, “It’s just you’re so tall-,”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“I have a king-sized bed, I think would suit you better.”

“A king-size?” He was puzzled now. “These beds are for royalty, I am not highborn,” Rowan rolled her eyes. _There’s gonna be a lot of explaining in the morning_.

“The size of the bed has nothing to do with status. It’s about comfort and preference,” she said rolling off the doorway and heading down the hall. He followed her, not sure what to make of this.

Rowan made her way down the hall, passing several doors that she knew would bring up questions later. But she pushed past them till they came to one of the doors at the end of the hall. She stopped momentarily in the doorway to hit the light switch, before leading him into another room that was a short distance away from the first room, but this one had more depth than the previous. _Must be her room_ , he thought.

“Whose room is this?” Sandor’s eyes grew in disbelief as he scanned the room.

Rowan nearly gave her automatic response but stopped herself. There was no need to go into unnecessary stories, at least not right now. “Yours if you want it,” he nodded absently. She looked him over again, while he was just as he imagined him to be, physically, he wasn’t dressed as she had pictured him. He wore common folk clothing, not the armor he was famed to dawn in his numerous appearances throughout the chapters. We’ll need to go shopping tomorrow, she made a mental note. Before she turned to leave she got a whiff of him, he smelled like wet dog, _classic._

“Umm, perhaps you’d like to shower first?”

“Shower?”

“Bathe...standing up. It’s quicker than drawing a bath.” His face was blank. “Come on,” she said grabbing his arm and pulling him further down the hall. She flicked the switch and revealed a strange washroom. Shiny metal in the shape of handles and faucets winked at him. The tiles were earth tones and the floor seemed warm to the touch.

“So you can shower here,” she indicated the glass box at the end of the room. “The water comes from above, you can use the showerhead or the one straight above-personally I think you’ll need the one above,” She pointed at the ceiling and there was a square metal plate with many small holes poked into it. “Here controls the water temperature, and there is pressure,” she gestured toward a metal handle and knob sticking out of the wall around waist height.

Sandor wrapped his arms around his torso ready to pull his shirt over his head. “You can just leave those,” she eyed the rough tunic and breeches he wore, her eyes drifting towards the wastebasket by the sink. “You won’t be wearing those.”

Sandor paused and looked down at his clothes. “A simple washing will take care of-"

“Take care of jack shit. Those rags can go in the garbage,” she cut him off unyielding. The sooner they’re gone the sooner I won’t have to look or smell them.

He looked at her questioningly, “Am I to roam naked then?”

Heat crept up her chest, “no, I’ll...I’ll go dig something up, at least to wear around the house,” She stammered turning to leave in a hurry, “If you need anything just holler,” she said before closing the door behind her.

Sandor chuckled to himself. _She’s a colorful one, doesn’t chirp needlessly_. Sandor removed his garbs and tossed them in the wastebasket with a frown. He tried to not peer into the mirror, but it was a hopeless gesture as it made up a majority of the wall. He didn’t mind the dirt and grime of his travels, he just didn’t expect such a clear reflection of the scars on his face. Back home the mirrors were tinged and marked. Water was the closest to clarity he would get, and even then he often rippled the surface to distort the image. But now the smooth surface and light exposure, there was no hiding-not anymore.

He grunted moving away from the sink and mirror and turning his attention to the shower. _Fuck_.

****************************

  
Rowan rummaged through Sandor's newly assigned bedroom in the drawers in search of a pair of gym shorts that would fit him. You wouldn’t think there was much difference between a man who was 6’3 and a man who is 6’10”, The problem with Sandor was that he wasn’t just tall, but he was heavily muscled like a bull. She settled with some old basketball shorts that were long but had a worn-out waistband, _maybe they’ll hold_ , Rowan sighed.

Suddenly she heard a painful roar coming from down the hall, “ROWAN!”

Rowan bolted from the bedroom and barged into the bathroom. “What happened-” before she could finish her sentence she looked up and saw Sandor pushed up against the wall in the corner of the shower tank covered in soap suds with his eyes bulging.

“It’s scalding hot!” he barked.

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Rowan reached for the shower knobs and turned the left inward then turning the right out. She waited a moment before reaching out and testing the water on her hand, still hot. She turned the right outward some more then waited before feeling the water temperature again. “How’s that?”

Sandor eyed her through the steam and hesitantly reached his hand out into the water. Satisfied he wouldn’t burn, he stepped back into the water to rinse off. Rowan turned her head to give him some privacy and started to walk out.

“Stay,” he sounded like he was drowning, must be washing his face. “I might need you,”

Rowan turned and sat on the toilet seat between the shower and the sink, her hands kneading the shorts like dough. _Relax, there’s no point in stressing_. It didn’t take long for Sandor to finish, he struggled with the knobs again, so Rowan reached in to shut them off. But rather than wait till she moved out of the way, Sandor stepped out of the shower dripping wet.

“Oh god! Wait-” Rowan raised the shorts to cover her eyes. “You could’ve let me get out of the way first,”  
Sandor grabbed the towel off the rack and threw it over his head drying his hair. He dabbed the towel across his chest and arms. It seemed to Rowan he was intentionally delaying the process of covering himself. Keeping her eye line pointed towards the ceiling, Rowan shuffled towards the door with her back towards him. She extended her arm backward with the shorts in hand. “Here, you can wear these for tonight,” her voice cracked in embarrassment.  
He took the shorts from her, but before he could speak she scurried away down the hall.

*************************************

When Sandor had finished in the bathroom, he made his way back to the bedroom rowan had assigned him. She stood just inside the doorway holding a glass of water for him.

“I’ll leave the night light in the bathroom in case you need it again.” She said handing him the glass. “My room is right across the hall, well at an angle.” She pointed to an open room. “If you need me, that’s where you can find me. The pups usually stay with me, but they may roam about and snoop in here a bit.”

“That’s fine,” he rasped. His sense of personal space was virtually nonexistent. His presence was ominous enough at a distance, but standing mere inches away had a suffocating effect. Rowan tried to remind herself that if you were at least on his good side, his bark was worse than his bite. However, she couldn’t speak for if you were on his bad side…

“Well,” she cleared her throat trying to take a step back but found her back flush against the wall. His eyes were intense holding her in place. “If you don’t need anything else, I will head to bed,” she whispered.

Sandor closed what little space was between them, bowing his head to bring his face closer to hers. He was searching her eyes, for what she didn’t know, but she held his gaze as best she could. Her heart was pounding; her body was screaming to get away as all her nerves were on edge, but she stayed put. His jaw seemed to relax a hair just before he spoke, “sleep well lady Rowan,”

There was a lump in her throat. Her mouth was so dry. Somehow she managed, “goodnight Sandor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there guys! Sandor's got some questions and Rowan is gonna try to answer them. I think a lot of us can identify with Rowan in the chapters to come.


	5. The Morning After...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, I do apologize for the delay. Winter is my season of competition and I've been on the move constantly. I had a generally ch 5 ready but I had to do some work to it-but now here it is!

The morning light peaked from between the curtains, rays kissing the ruined side of Sandor’s face. A big yawn forced him to sit up and stretch. Sandor looked around and examined the room now that the wine had worn off and he was well-rested. It was a large room, with oddly styled furniture. _Lots of metal_ he observed. Outside of the furnishing, there wasn’t much decorum to suggest the type of person who resided in this chamber. All he could gather was that the room belonged to a young male. Sandor rose from the bed and grabbed the shorts Rowan had given him.

  
_That was the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life_. It wasn’t long before he had a visitor, Titan appeared in his doorway greeting him with a small gruff. Sandor gestured for the pup to come in. Titan hesitated for a moment, but realizing everything was alright he entered the room and brought his head onto Sandor’s lap.

  
“Morning pup,” Sandor scratched him behind the ears. “Is you’re mistress up yet?” Titan tilted his head quizzically, as if he were confused by the question. “Maybe not,” Hades popped his head in the doorway and started to whine. Sandor looked up with a chuckle, “what’s wrong with ye?” Hades instantly got quiet then dashed out of sight. Sandor looked down at Titan, “your brother isn’t as brave as you huh pup?” Giving him one final pat, Sandor stood up and made his way into the hallway.  
There was no sign of Hades in the hallway, must be hiding in one of the rooms.

  
As he made his way down the hall towards the bathroom he saw a streak of light peaking out of Rowan’s room. He peered in where he saw her fast asleep in her bed. He held his breath. She lay in her bed with her naked back to him, her blankets covering her only from the waist down. Her bare form wasn’t all that caught his eye, it was the black ink of a dragon. _She can’t be Targaryen, she doesn’t have their look_ … Where the Targaryens had the white hair, fair skin, and purple eyes, Rowan had black hair, brown skin, and brown eyes. If anything she looked like she would have come from Dorne or some exotic place from across the sea.

  
Juliet looked up from over Rowan’s hip and yawned. She climbed over her sleeping master and padded over to where Sandor stood taking a seat in front of him with her paw extended, a silent plea to pet her.

  
Rowan stirred at the sudden absence of Juliet. Groggily she turned to follow where she had gone, her eyes wandering to a man hovering over the regal hound comfortingly.

  
“Keep going down the hall Cypress’ room will be on the left.” Lazily turning over to lay back down

  
_Cypress?_

  
“I do not know who Cypress is, but I am headed to relieve myself.” Sandor rasped, his eyes on her partially exposed chest.

  
Rowan froze. Oh god… she turned her head to look at the door, her eyes were hidden by her fallen faux hawk. “Fuck me.” She mumbled grabbing the bedsheets around her bare upper body.

  
_Fuck me, she’s a vulgar one._

  
“So-I’m so sorry. I honestly thought last night was a dream, but clearly it was not.” She rambled as she searched the many folds of the bedding for her nightshirt. “ I should’ve known this was too complex to merely be a dream, but hey what’s a dream then.” The question was rhetorical. “First impressions already out the window, here you are clueless about what’s going on and I have absolutely no answers.”

  
Sandor watched her frantically tearing her bedsheets apart. He saw the shirt laying on the floor by the door when he first walked by but didn’t say anything. Amused by her distraction, he took a step in and picked up the oversized shirt holding it up in the air. Rowan looked over at him relieved. She crawled out of bed, one hand still holding sheet wrapped around her upper body. She reached out to take the shirt, “thank you-“

  
But he jerked the shirt back just out of reach. “I want answers,” he took a step around her.

  
“Do you mean to use my clothing as ransom?” she was clutching the sheet around her torso following his movement. She was having trouble focusing her eyes on his face. His big, broad muscular chest and shoulders drew her attention.

  
“Girl if I meant you harm you would not have woken up in good spirits.” he rasped standing at the foot of her bed.

  
Rowan nodded her head in agreement. “Fair enough,”

  
“Talk,”

  
“What do you want me to say?” she rolled her eyes as she crawled back onto her bed. “I’m just as lost as you. You should be talking to me-you walked into MY house armed then attacked me.”

  
“I hid in the shadows because I saw you armed with a sword,”

  
“You broke into my house!” she snapped.

  
“I did not. I merely opened a door and ended up here,” he swung his arms gesturing around them. “wherever here is.”

  
“So we're gonna blame magic? Great. Did you talk to anyone? A mage, Maester or a witch?”

  
Sandor scrunched his brows disturbed, “No, you?”

  
“No.” Rowan fell silent thinking about the events leading up to her waking up during the thunderstorm. She remembered watching the fated episode of GoT and crying inconsolably while drinking a lot of wine. Her dogs were the only company she had for the night. Nothing stood out of the ordinary.

  
“It can’t be,” she muttered to herself smiling in disbelief.

  
Sandor looked at her, “what,”

  
“I wished it.” her eyes lit up in a mixture of delight and incredulous. “I wished for you to be here.

  
Sandor was lost, she wasn’t making any sense. How could she wish for something like this? We don’t even know each other… “Why?  
Rowan dropped her gaze to the floor.

  
Sandor took a step towards her bed, “how do you know who I am?”

  
_Oh boy_ … “well this isn’t easy to explain.” she was rubbing the back of her neck. “Can I get my shirt first?”

  
Sandor looked at her a moment before closing the distance between them and handing her the giant shirt. As she fumbled awkwardly trying to be modest while covering herself, Sandor took a seat on the edge of the bed facing her. He waited.

  
Once she was settled, she rotated to face him “This is gonna be hard to believe,” she warned. “The only way I can attempt for this to make sense is to blame magic of some kind. I’ve read about you.”

  
Sandor's brows furrowed as his body tensed, “How do you mean?”

  
“Well, you are a character written by the famed George RR Martin. A series called ‘Game of a Thrones’.

  
Rowan took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she sped through, “You are Sandor ‘the Hound’, second son of House Clegane. Your brother is Gregor ‘the Mountain that rides’ and you have an unnamed sister. You were in service to the Lannisters up until the battle of Blackwater, where green fire pushed your resolve to fight. You left Kings Landing but not before asking if Lady Sansa Stark wanted to leave with you. She declined, and so you left on your own. Time brought you in contact with the lost Stark, Arya, for a period. That is until the last fight you were in left you with a nasty infection and she left you for dead. At that point nothing was heard of you since.” she winced chancing a peek.

  
Sandor stared at her with wide eyes. He was unnerved. The extent of her knowledge was not only eerie and uncanny but strangely omnipresent. He was at a loss for words, he felt vulnerable.

She looked at him and was sad, one of the greatest warriors of Westeros sat on her bed and she had essentially disarmed him with her knowledge. _Shit, I’d be scared too if someone told me my life story._

  
He stared at the floor. Rowan didn’t know what to do. Unsure if he needed comfort, if he was angry at her or what.

  
“Am I dead?”

  
Rowan bit her lip, “Well technically we don’t know what has become of you since you were in the Elder brother’s care. But according to HBO-the tv series that millions of people have been watching for years now,” she clarified seeing his eyebrows scrunch together. “You did die while killing your brother,” There was a glint in his eye.

  
“I killed him?”

  
Rowan sighed sitting back against her headboard. She nodded solemnly, “it was the worst day in the whole series,” it almost sounded like tears in her voice.

  
Sandor looked at her bewildered. “Why?”

  
“Because,” her voice cracked. She paused trying to clear her throat before continuing, “Because you died,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to be full volume.  
Sandor studied her. This was a lot of information to take in. None of it made sense and yet all of it did in a strange way. He saw her shift uncomfortably before him, bringing her knees to her chest.

  
“And my death, saddens you?”

  
Although Rowan’s skin was brown he could tell she was on the fringe of blushing. “Yes” she admitted.

  
“Why” he asked scratching the scruff on his neck.

  
Rowan sighed, “I hate what happened to you. I hate how people treated you. I hate how slow Sansa was to realize how cruel the world she lived in truly was-was. I hate how people didn’t understand you. But most of all, I hated how you didn’t feel the love you deserved.”

  
He looked at her astonished. “A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he’ll look you straight in the face,” she said with a small smile.  
She even knows my words.

  
There was a strange feeling that stirred in the pit of his stomach. A foreign one. A stranger completely unmasked the aloofness of the Hound. Not only had she disarmed him with her knowledge, but she was grieving over him. His entire life he fought, killed and survived, but no one cared much about his welfare or being. He was a sword, a soldier, he had no intimate value to anyone outside of his role. He had no family that would miss him should he meet his death in combat. He had no wife or children to go home to. He had no lover to warm his bed. Yet a world away he sat a woman who professed a deep sadness in his demise.

  
Not quite sure how to fully process that, he shook the thought out of his head. “Well I suppose you were the only one in all of Westeros and this world who cared about my death.” he rose from the bed, eager to move on.

  
Rowan shook her head. “The world mourned-twitter went off, Tumblr was outraged, everyone was pissed.”

  
“I doubt it,” he said flatly walking towards the door.

  
He’s never gonna understand. “A debate for another time,” she concluded. Sliding out of bed, she walked past him into the hallway. “You go handle your business and I’m gonna get the dogs ready for the day. I’ll be down for breakfast.” She made her way down the hall with her pups on her heels, all eager to go outside and stretch their legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't you're traditional Sandor fic. Questionable breaking the news of his true existence in the books (breaking the rules of time travel/space-time continuum/ fictional characters in real life), but hey his fate is still up in the air! I thought it was important to address the confusing feelings Sandor has about stranger's grieving for him. His entire existence was in the service of others whilst grooming a created fear into a hatred for his only surviving kin (Gregor). 
> 
> While he may not quite understand how to process such feelings, there's still a lot of questions to be answered. But first- breakfast!

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a "prologue" of sorts, giving some context. Highkey I felt this on a spiritual level.


End file.
